


A Broken Lion Still Roars

by Failed_to_Deanon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Drama, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, Infanticide, Male Friendship, Not A Fix-It, Out of Character, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Strained Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failed_to_Deanon/pseuds/Failed_to_Deanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some men seek to burn the world, others seek to maintain it, and there are those who seek to do both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Broken Lion Still Roars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki. 
> 
> A/n: Please heed the tags; while there are no instances of it there are references to violence and death in this story.
> 
> That said, I'd love to hear readers thoughts and opinions.

Stepping closer to the door he rarely went through, Jaime kept his footsteps light. Oberyn Martell still turns around. “Should I be honored so many have taken to following me everywhere I go? First, I believe his name is Trant and now the former Queen Regent’s very own brother.”

Irritated, he nearly curses Trant and Cersei for putting Trant up to what brought him here. He snuffs the thought out as quickly as it came. Father had been angry enough, telling Cersei not to provoke the Dornish to their faces. What could be accomplished by such chastisement, he did not know. Amiable manners aside, this Dornishman would not need to look hard for a reason to be ‘provoked’.

He wants nothing to do with the man, let alone had a desire to be here of all places with him. Yet, it had to be him. “Prince Oberyn, I would never think to honor you in such a way.” 

“Then, why are you here, Kingslayer?”

His jaw clenches. Kingslayer. Of all people, Oberyn Martell had no love of Aerys Targaryen as a man or a king, how could he- 

His thoughts come to an abrupt halt. Unlike those honor-obsessed fools so many years ago, it was not because he killed Aerys the man calls him an oathbreaker.

On the heels of that, the other man observes, “This room is cleaner than I expected.” 

He swallows the bile rising in his throat. His father called this younger prince of Dorne a hard man. He agrees; any man who can wield words as weapons like this would be.

This was a room which had been cleared out many years ago. Even when it had been occupied the furnishings had been sparse and quickly assembled. After all, Prince Rhaegar’s family only used them after Aerys had them recalled from Dragonstone and they had been occupied for less than a year.

Because he knew the man expects an answer, he admits, “It has remained unused for some time.”  
Prince Oberyn gaze returns to the room and ventures a guess, “Ten and seven years?”

The servants only come to clean it if they must. It’s been years and he still averts his eyes when passing it. This was supposed to be an empty room. It was just an empty room. But, it wasn’t. 

Now the Prince’s eyes are hard. “Quite right. To put children where others have been murdered would be an ill-omened thing to do.”

Cersei had been adamant this room not be used as a nursery, though before it had been cleared out, every inch of it had been cleaned repeatedly. The one once designated as Prince Rhaegar’s had also been given the same treatment. Today had been the first time he stepped into either and he would have been steadfast in that if that fool Trant hadn’t reported how the Dornishman visited the room Princess Rhaenys had been butchered in earlier.

He would have liked to say the only reaction he will allow himself is the press of his lips except he tears his eyes from the other man only for them to land where he knew Princess Elia died.

On some nights he dreams of the mangled sound of her crying he’d been too late to hear. It has been long enough since the broken door was repaired and furniture thrown out and today the scent of blood still fills his nose. He can still see Prince Aegon’s blood painting the walls.

Once again he glances at the only other person in the room. “Why do this to yourself?”

The rage makes the lines on that face all the more visible. “Do what? Go into empty rooms? Visit where my sister and her children once trod? Why should I not visit where they spent the last time on this earth before your father butchered them?”

“He-“ 

He starts and the Dornishmen snarls, “Is Tywin Lannister employing free thinking men why your sister stands where Elia should be, why that boy sits on what should have been Aegon’s throne, or it is why your Myrcella lives where Rhaenys ought? You left them unprotected and your father’s men got to them! Do not pretend with me; not today, Lannister, not here! Do not deny me this!”

Trembling with rage and grief flaming anew he snarls back, “Don’t stand here and accuse me when you do not know! You weren’t here! Do you think you are the only one who remembers them? Who mourns them? I seem them my sleep and when I walk these halls. I remember the sounds of the princesses’ laughter and the prince’s attempt at words and I remember seeing their dead bodies. If I could go back I would protect them. I simply cannot. You want to be angry, be angry, but, do not presume to know me or my regrets. What would you have me do? Cry? Scream? Rage? Beg their shades for forgiveness? Do you think I haven’t done all of that and more? They are gone, damn you! Nothing I can do will change that! What do you want me to do when nothing will bring them back?”

Prince Oberyn sneers, “Even if I wanted them back I want nothing from you.”

Frustrated, through gritted teeth, he growls. “Then, tell me what it is you do want. I could not do what you wanted then, so let me do it now!”

The older man only laughs. “Look at where we are, Lannister. What else is here besides you that should be? Nothing!” Then, the man steps close, his voice now so soft a fool could almost call it a caress, “If you couldn’t do what I needed you to do then, what could I possibly want from you now?”

As frustrated as he is, he is so very _tired_ and yet when he speaks he does it through gritted teeth. “Very well; you want nothing from me. Tell me what you want and who you desire it from? I will do whatever is in my power to give it to you.”

Prince Oberyn steps back and only gives him a long look before leaving him alone in a room he vowed long ago never to enter.

* * *

He dismisses the curious glances, the shocked gawking, and even the glares, as he makes his way within the barracks containing the City Guard. Finding the office he wants to be in, he knocks. Once inside he gestures to his squire to put down the box he brought with him and orders him to leave.  
“How can I be of assistance, Lord Commander?”

Addam Marbrand, Captain of the City Watch greets him while quickly coming to stand at attention. 

“Quit it with the Lord Commander nonsense, Addam. We were boys together.” 

Addam nods. “Then, why are you here, _Jaime_ if not to speak about the days of old?” 

“Tyrion wants a Trial by Combat.”

He marvels at how quickly Addam’s eyes flew back to looking at his face after from glancing at his damaged arm. His expression was completely neutral. His father admits to a certain liking for Addam citing his competence and steadfastness. ‘How fortunate’, he thinks. He is in need of such a man. There are not many others he would trust or could. 

Then, Addam asks, “Has the crown chosen its champion?” 

Frowning slightly, he answers, “Gregor Clegane.”

Addam scowls in distaste before his face turns anxious. “Has Lord Tyrion picked a champion?” 

At the hesitation in Addam’s voice anger burns furiously in him. 

He sneered. “There is no need to be concerned for yourself when someone else volunteered.” 

Addam glares. “I will thank you to not think fear drives my willingness to serve those who have been good to me or have you always thought me to be inconsiderate?” 

He takes a breath. When did he become this man who finds it so easy to antagonize everyone he comes across? When did he become a man who wanted to? He had not been this man once, not before-

He swallows. He shouldn’t let the Prince Oberyn’s words disturb him. He cannot concern himself with the past when there is the future to think of.

As a child Cersei had been his closet friend; the only one he ever wanted. She barely talks to him now. After the trial he might lose his other dearest friend and he does not have too many more to throw Addam’s friendship away because he is frustrated by being unable to help his brother in a way he needs.

“I apologize. I do not mean to criticize your capabilities or loyalty.” 

Even if his words were not meant to placate, he would have never asked Addam to fight for his brother. 

As battle hardened as he is, Addam could not match for the Mountain for strength and Addam was a Lannister man through and through. Addam would never fight for someone his liege-lord and Queen Regent deemed a kinslayer. 

Relieved when he gets a nod he answers Addam’s question. “Oberyn Martell volunteered.”

Previous consternation with him seemingly gone, now incredulous, Addam asks, “Was he not a judge at his trial?”

“He was.”

“Why would he do that?” 

How deep does Addam’s loyalty go that he does not ask why a Martell would defend a Lannister though he clearly desires to voice it?

“To revenge himself on Gregor Clegane. To provoke my father. Perhaps he was bored and decided to test his might. He could just as easily see himself in the way Tyrion enjoys his women and drink. Perhaps he remembers how Princess Elia smiled at Tyrion once. Pick any reason you like: one is as good as any other.” 

Of all the possibilities he gave Addam, Addam chooses to address only one. “What does Princess Elia have to do with Lord Tyrion?” 

‘Lord Tyrion’; all was not lost, then.

His pleasure at the proper address from his friend towards his brother is fleeting seeing Addam’s eager expression.

Sighing, he thinks he might as well explain now. It’s better than speaking about the alternative. He does not want to _think_ of the alternative.

“You were already recalled to Ashemark when the Ruling Princess and her consort ventured to Casterly Rock.” He ignores the pity-filled look, adding, “Prince Oberyn and Princess Elia had been with them. The Prince had been disappointed Tyrion was simply a child rather than the monster some had been gossiping about him being. Princess Elia was the only one who smiled delighted in him.” 

For all he knew, Prince Oberyn, who would never let anything go, probably did remember this. He does and it is not a joyous thought when instead of the full promise of those times the princess was dead, her brother is consumed by revenge, he’s a cripple, and Cersei will barely look at him.

His reverie is interrupted delicately by Addam. “Besides you, you mean?”

And woe to Tyrion because he seemed the only one alive who would still do it. “Aye.”

His face must have slipped because Addam’s next question was dreadfully innocuous, “Was it a pretty smile?”

He finds himself answering, “It was a kind smile and a very pretty one.”

He does not say how to his nine year old mind Cersei’s had been far more beautiful or that most of the time, he still thinks the same. He also fails to include how the few times he saw the Princess’ smile afterward they had been directed to her children and Prince Viserys on the few occasions the king allowed them to be in close proximity with one another. He does not dare voice how the last time he laid eyes on her there had barely been part of Princess Elia’s face left after Gregor Clegane’s mailed fist got to it, let alone a smile.

“I am not here to talk about her smile though.” While the dead will have their due, today he was here for the living. “I am here to talk about her brother and mine.” 

Addam sighs. “You are worried.” It was not a question. 

“My sister thinks our brother killed my nephew.” 

He ignores how Addam shifts before quickly settling. He believed Stannis Baratheon’s words about the children, but, was too dedicated to admit it. Addam’s loyalty to the Lannister cause is not much of comfort, but, what other choice does he have?

“You think he is innocent.”

He slams his golden hand down on Addam’s desk. “I know he is, Addam!”

Everyone knows he is but Cersei hasn’t been listening and Father…

His old companion gives him an imploring look. “What do you need from me, Jaime?”

He takes another deep breath. “Both my brother’s life and that of the Prince of Dorne’s depends on his beating the Mountain.”

“You do not think he can win.” Addam is a capable man and a perceptive one. He was not completely mistaken in his choice to come here, then.

“I know what the Mountain is capable of.”

Addam nods, obviously agreeing. “You fear the Prince’s losing.”

“I fear either outcome. That is why I am here.” He gestures to the crate he only just remembered. 

Addam cranes his neck. “What is it?”

At least his remaining hand is good enough for something.

“Addam, what else can a Lannister give the Lord Commander of the City Guard except gold?”

In response he arches a brow and crosses his arms across his chest. “What did the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard have in mind, Jaime?”

* * *

His jaw is going to break with how much clenching he’s been doing to it these days. “You have been having my own men follow me, now too, sweet sister?”

He does not have to look in his father’s direction to know along-side Pycelle, Tywin Lannister’s eyes are fixed on him. However, right now, he is more concerned with the way Cersei glares.

As she purses her lips, he thinks about how she never used to glare at him like this. Cersei hisses, “Why were you in the city with the Crown’s money.”

“The Lord Commander of the City Watch cannot fortify the city if he has little funding to do it.”

Pycelle asks, “Why give him so much when the City Watch has plenty?”

At Cersei’s nod of agreement, he does not bother stifling his irritation. Tyrion is in the gaol. The Dornish itch for any reason to revenge themselves. The young wolf might be dead but Stannis is still a thorn in their sides. And now she won’t listen to him at all. Why does she not see that everything he has done had been for her? Why can’t she see how dangerous this all is?

“The upcoming trial-”

She hisses, “We should have drowned that little monster years ago.”

This time it takes more of an effort to swallow his anger. “Our brother-“

“He killed my son!”

They did not have the time to sit and debate this. “Was Joffrey so beloved by the people-“

“Do not speak ill of my son!”

He was my son too, he wants to yell, but, he can only press his lips tightly together. 

When his thoughts are sorted he explains, “I would not speak ill of a king nor do I of my nephew. I do not speak of the dead at all.” He has no desire to speak of the dead or think of them. If there is anything he tires of most, it is that.

For the first time his today his father speaks. “Then what are you speaking of, Jaime?” 

Though he desires nothing from his father, if it helps to move things along he will accept this intercession, to a point. Flatly, he manages, “The city and the realm will not look to us with love if one of our family’s more stalwart supporters loses in such public forum to a Dornishman.”

Obviously disliking the turn of this conversation, through gritted teeth, Cersei says, “Unlike when you, Lord Commander, failed Joffrey, Gregor Clegane will not fail his memory”.

In the silence he looks away all the while telling himself to forgive that because losing Joffrey in such a way devastated her.

“Your Grace, perhaps it will be as you say, but, do you think Dorne will take well if their prized son is killed?”

Pycelle, with a glance at his father, pipes up again, “If he dies it is well under the rules of Trial by Combat.”

Tiredly, he asks, “You think the Dornish will care?”

Cersei sneers, “Who cares about the Dornish? King’s Landing has held against greater numbers than they can ever hope have if it even comes to that.”

His sister is far too dismissive. It is a laughable thought coming from him, but, one only had to look at his hand to see how dangerous such a thing could be. “King’s Landing is not invulnerable. It never has been and we need to take precautions where we can.” 

He’ll not stand in other empty rooms with those who lost their family because he failed to take precautions. Once was more than enough.

“You had no-”

The slap of a hand against the table forces him to tear his eyes away from his sister and move towards their now standing father. “Enough! What’s done is done and the outcome of the trial is will be whatever it is. We have enough to do and we waste our time here squabbling like children for nothing.”  
Hearing the scrape of chairs and seeing the occupants of the room leave, he remains seated and closes his eyes. 

“Jaime.” The one voice he has no interest in hearing more of. Not today.

He takes a breath and opens his eyes. “Yes, Father?”

“You made a wise choice.” 

Incredible! Now, his father is content with his choices? 

He cannot help and point out, “The Queen Regent does not seem to think so.” It sears him. Once, Cersei and he used to share everything, even the same thoughts and now…

His father jerks his head sharply. “You need not concern yourself with that. She will come to see what I see.” 

He almost laughs at the way Father sounds so sure Cersei will fall in line. The urge dwindles quickly. Cersei would never gainsay their father. Of course, Cersei was his twin. Why would she do something he never did? 

He shakes his head. He cannot think just of Cersei now with his father still speaking. “We must keep the men of this city loyal and you are not incorrect in thinking about the damage caused by Baratheon’s men.” 

His father sounds pleased. Today, he has no need of Tywin Lannister’s satisfaction. “I am a Kingsguard. It is my duty.”

Pride was nearly gone at the reminder of the vows he took, leaving only distaste. “You are right to do your duty to your family.” 

He returns, “The king’s mother is a Lannister and as such is my family.”

His father starting to look agreeable gives him the impetus to continue, “The last time I failed one king’s family it was because I feared for my own. The stain on my conscious still remains. Tyrion is also my family and though I fear for him, this time I will remain dutiful to the King and his family rather than my own.”

He sees the anger now and he cares not. “Jaime-" 

“I never could please you before. I say my loyalty will be where it ought to be and I still do not?”

His father sneers, “Why should I be pleased about how my son speaks like a fool?”

This time he was the one giving others a long look.

Tywin Lannister is a man who inspired fear and respect in everyone he came across. In this moment, Jaime feels neither. “My family might become smaller in size and an enemy become an even fiercer one before the week is out because the king’s justice demands it. We both know it is a false demand and yet I will watch and then I will continue to serve. While I failed Joffrey, I will not fail Tommen. Do not fear on that account. As for me being a fool, perhaps I am. Yet, how am I one for thinking you would be pleased that your man may once again be the instrument by which you are rid of those whose happiness and, perhaps, existence, offends you?”

He rises. Coming to stand in front of the very angry Hand of the King, he continues, “Do not pretend with me, not today, Father, not when I have so much to do to ensure the security of our family as you desire it and only so many tools and so little time to do it with.”

Bound as he is, hearing the silence follow _him_ out of the room for once feels _good_. Doubting the elation will last long, he will savor it while he can.


End file.
